The Wall
by silverphyrbyrd
Summary: Fifteen years after the Biker Mice first reached Earth, and Throttle has been missing for seven years. He shows up to Stoker's funeral a broken shadow of his former self. What has happened? And can his friends help him? CharacterDEATH and angst. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Biker Mice from Mars owned by Brentwood Television Funnies. This story and all original characters copyright Liz Butler 2007.

Author's Notes: This one started from listening to Nickelback's 'How You Remind Me' - a good song that compelled me to buy an album that turned out to be crappy, but what the hell. Anyway - it got me thinking about broken hearts and tragedy. I write for Modo and Vinnie too much already, so this is a Throttle fic - it probably would have been anyway. It is twelve years later. Throttle has hit the wall. CharacterDEATH and Angst-haters, look away now.

NB: The fortunes of Primer, Redline and Bandit will be followed in the End of the Road stories, hopefully coming soon.

Also, if it wasn't for SewerSlider and her collection of truly excellent Ninja Turtles angst, this would never have got written. So muchos thankies to Slider.

THE WALL

'Stoker was, in life, the quintessential Biker mouse,' said Carbine. 'He was the greatest rider and the best fighter in the galaxy and although far be it from me to say we always got on, he was a great teacher and friend. We have lost a hero, truly a legend in his own life. So many of our soldiers today have grown up with Stoker's words on their tongues and in their hearts. Everything he did, he did with a spirit and a vigour that inspired everyone who knew him and it makes me sad and angry that Stoker's road ended before he saw Mars truly free.'

Rimfire looked around the mice gathered at the graveside. So many of them, and not just mice - the news of Stoker's death seemed to have sent shockwaves through the entire galaxy. Some of the faces were sad, some were angry, some were shocked, some had the blank look of those who have been at too many gravesides. But one face was glaringly obvious, simply by its absence.

'Where the hell is Throttle?' asked Rimfire afterwards.

'Don't know,' said Vinnie sadly. 'He vanished 'bout seven years ago, no-one's heard a peep since.'

'I guess you could ask around,' said Charley. 'But I doubt you'll find anything.'

Rimfire nodded sadly and crossed the garden to catch up with his sister, who getting hysterical.

'And everyone always said I should calm down but he always said I had energy and potential and he taught me everything I know and now he's dead and-'

'Hey, Primer,' said Rimfire. Primer turned around, caught sight of her brother and burst into tears. 'Great,' he muttered. 'This is all I need. C'mon, sis, pull it together. How's England?'

It took a while for Primer to answer, but eventually she did. 'Yeah, it's fine. Me and Bandit and Redline, we're doing great. Couldn't be better. But then we got this message...'

She showed signs of dissolving again, so Rimfire interrupted. 'Have you heard from Throttle lately?'

Primer looked startled. 'No. Why?'

'Cause he's not here. You'd think of all people, Throttle would be here, right?'

'Um. Yeah. Yeah, I would, kinda.'

'Oh, well... Listen, I'll see you around. Come and catch up before you go back.'

'I don't get it,' said Charley when they were back at Modo's place. 'He's been missing for years. You've said nothing about it for years - why dig it up now?'

''Cause he shoulda been here,' said Modo.

'Look, baby, how can I put this?' said Vinnie. 'Yeah, it's been years. Modo's got his teaching and I got you, but we're still tight and we know where we came from. Stoke... well, I had to be dragged up kickin' and screamin', but you know me, won't go anywhere without a fight. Throttle wasn't like that. Throttle was all set to _be_ Stoker one day. If there was gonna be one person at this funeral, I'd've thought it'd be Throttle.'

Charley sighed and Vinnie put an arm around her shoulders. 'Well, there's been so much water under the bridge,' she said. 'There must be loads of people he doesn't want to see.'

Vinnie looked up and caught Modo's eye. 'You thinkin' what I'm thinkin', bro?'

'Ah think Ah might be,' said Modo. He stood up and Charley stepped forward, but Vinnie's hand on her shoulder restained her.

'Sorry, Charley,' he said. 'Not this time.'

'Between the guys, huh? OK, see you later.'

They didn't take their bikes. There was a feeling that if their hunch was correct then they might have to catch him unawares, and they'd have to be quiet for that. And in the Garden of Hope, sure enough, a lanky silhouette in the moonlight stood by the fresh grave. Vinnie's brow creased - surely Throttle was stockier than that? But then the silhouette looked up and spoke, confirming his identity.

'OK, Vinnie, come out. I can see you. You got Modo spying on me too?'

Both of them stepped out into the moonlight. Throttle, facing away from the light, regarded them impassively, and Vinnie tried to lighten the mood. 'Hey, Throttle, good to see you.'

'Sure,' said Throttle.

'How're you doin'?' said Modo. 'How's your bike?'

Throttle's shoulders hunched a little. 'Ain't got a bike. You guys gonna leave me alone now?'

Vinnie walked slowly around the grave, and Throttle turned to face him, revealing his face as he did so. He looked terrible, his clothes ripped and stained, his face gaunt, his skin covered with scars old and fresh. He didn't even have his knuck nukes anymore, just a blaster on one hip and a large and rusty knife on the other. Now that he was close, Vinnie could smell the alcohol on him and wondered what he could have been drinking to make him smell like _that_.

'Throttle - what _happened_ to you, bro?'

'See, this is one of the reasons I didn't turn up at the funeral,' snapped Throttle. 'I had people I didn't want to see and right now, that includes you two. Times change, Vincent. People change. Now both of you piss off and let me get on with my life.'

'You gonna take off fer some godfersaken rock soon as we leave?' said Modo.

'That's the plan. If you don't like it you know what you can do.'

'You're gonna stay,' said Modo with decision. 'Anyone c'n see you ain't in no fit state to fly.'

'I'm in fit state to go wherever I damn well please. You are not gonna stop me.'

'If Ah gotta, then yeah, Ah am.'

'Look, Throttle, you don't wanna talk?' said Vinnie impatiently. 'Fine, you don't have to talk. If you want we won't even tell Carbine you're here. But at least let us make sure you're healthy or at least clean before you launch off into the big black again.'

Throttle laughed darkly. 'Tryin' to take care of me? Newsflash, guys, it don't work.'

'Then let us think we did _something_ before you went off and finally got yourself killed. Put our stupid, sentimental minds at rest. It'd be no skin off'f your nose.'

Throttle considered. 'OK. But I leave when I want and Carbine has no idea I'm even alive. Got it?'

'Sure,' said Modo.

'Fine,' said Vinnie. 'You done here?'

Throttle looked down at the raked earth on the grave and nodded. 'Yeah. So, we going?'

Charley looked up as they entered, and a range of expressions crossed her face, starting at surprise, then passing through joy, shock and pity before ending in concerned confusion.

'Shut your mouth, Charley, you're catching flies,' said Throttle flatly. Then he turned to Vinnie. 'No Carbine, _no_ third degree.'

'Right,' said Vinnie.

'Shower through there,' said Modo, and Throttle followed his pointing finger.

'What happened to him?' hissed Charley.

'We don't know, babe,' said Vinnie.

'We just know if he's gonna stay then Carbine ain't gonna know,' said Modo. 'An' he don't have to talk.'

'My god...' Charley sank down onto the sofa. Vinnie came and sat beside her and put his arms around her. She leaned into the embrace, not sure if he was holding her for her benefit or his own.

After Throttle had come out of the shower and eaten a couple of hot dogs in a desultory way that suggested he didn't even remember eating for pleasure, he left, with an abrupt remark that he would be back. Three hours later Modo's phone rang. He picked it up.

'Yeah?'

'Modo? It's Primer. I'm outside the Ten Claws-'

'What? Didn't your momma teach you to stay away from that neighbourhood?'

'For god's sake, I'm twenty-eight, I can take care of myself. It's not important. But you have to get over here - Throttle turned up and I don't know what's wrong with him but he's in trouble now. Me and Bandit and Red can't get him out by ourselves, you got to hurry! He'll get killed!'

'Be right there.' Modo slammed the phone down and stood up. 'Throttle's in the Ten Claws, sounds like he got himself a problem he can't handle.'

'Hell...' muttered Vinnie. 'Right, I'm on it. No, Charley, you can't come, we need you to distract Carbine if she calls.'

'What do I tell her?' said Charley.

'Make something up!' With that, Modo and Vinnie were gone.

The Ten Claws was the kind of bar that looked on brawls as evening entertainment, but from the sound of it, this was something special. As they drew near the doorway shattered in a blaze of light and someone staggered through backwards, clutching his shoulder.

'_Wha'thelld'you mean, I lost m' touch_?' There was another earshattering bang. '_Come on, who's next? G'wan, summun tell me 'gain how I lost it_...'

Modo looked through the hole where the door had been. Throttle was standing in the middle of the floor, shooting and hitting at random and shouting a drunken stream of challenges and curses.

'Crap,' muttered Vinnie.

'We tried our best,' said Primer from behind them. 'We tried going in to stop him but he shot Red in the leg. Tried to get me, too.'

'Is Red OK?' said Modo.

'He'll be fine, Bandit's with him and anyway, I don't think Throttle could aim even if he was bothering to,' said Primer.

'Right.' Modo and Vinnie stepped through the door.

'You gonna bring th'ole army to bring me down?' taunted Throttle, who clearly hadn't seen them coming in. He had a slash of cuts down his arm and blood was trickling down the side of his face and dripping off his chin, but he didn't seem to have noticed. Modo aimed carefully and fired his arm cannon just in front of Throttle's feet. The force of the blast knocked Throttle onto his back and the gun went flying. Vinnie glared around the room and waved his blaster threateningly.

'OK, people, we'll take care of this. Anyone thinks of trying anything, remember I'm sober and I can shoot straight.' Several people looked away and he caught the eye of Primer, who was watching from the doorway. 'Hey, Primer, make yourself useful. We got people hurt here.' Primer nodded and made a remark to someone outside, then came in followed by Bandit and Redline. Redline's leg had already been bandaged and he was walking on it with only a slight limp.

'Fuck off, the lottoya...' muttered Throttle. 'C'n fight m'own battles...'

'Yeah, well, this one's done,' said Modo. 'Ah don't think anything's broken, bro.'

'Good,' said Vinnie. 'Then let's blow this joint.' Modo scooped the protesting but ineffective Throttle up and they left Primer and her friends tending to the injured.

Throttle turned out to need three stitches in his left temple and it had been a miracle he hadn't passed out, if not from the blow then from loss of blood. Charley cleaned him up and then they left him to sleep it off.

The following morning he was aching from the bruises, hung over and, if anything, in a worse temper than the night before.

'So, want to tell us what happened?' said Vinnie.

'No,' snapped Throttle. 'Don't you have _any_ beer in this fridge?'

'Got root beer.'

'That's _not_ what I meant.'

'Fair enough. So here's what I think happened. You went to the deepest dive you could find that wasn't actually a rat bar, got totally mashed and then someone suggested you weren't like they remembered so you started a fight for the hell of it.'

Throttle gave up on his search for beer and started making coffee instead. 'That's about the gist of it, yeah.'

'Idiot. You know what you did? Remember Primer? Modo's niece, dug herself out of the Alternate Base #14 thing and went off to England with a couple of her mates? They got something there that's nearly like we were, back in the day. And you shot one of 'em.'

'Kill 'em?'

'No, flesh wound.'

'That's OK, then.'

'Shit, Throttle, what've I gotta do to make you give a damn anymore?'

'Can't be done.' Throttle took his coffee and turned to leave. 'So how about you just stay out of my life?'

Carbine regarded Rimfire across the table and tried to concentrate on the map between them. She kept thinking, This time last year, Stoker was sitting there. Stoker was my second, driving me mad and making me think up manouvers I'd never have come up with without someone to argue with. Who'd have thought he'd fade so fast...

She'd always believed Stoker would die fighting and in fact he'd said it to her, near the end, when he had to have tubes to help him breathe, he'd said he'd always thought the only way he'd die in bed was if someone shot him in his sleep. But now he was gone, and Rimfire was Carbine's second now. Yes, he was intelligent and he knew his game inside and out, but he was too polite. Carbine never thought she'd miss those ear-shattering rows, but they always ended in a competition to see who was the better tactician. You couldn't sound off properly against someone who called you 'ma'am' without a hint of irony in his voice.

'Ma'am?'

Carbine jerked out of her reverie and focussed on Rimfire's face. 'What? Sorry, just a little preoccupied. Tense. Where were we?'

'Listen, Ma'am, we should call it a day. I can't think straight either.'

'Yeah? You missing Stoker too?'

Rimfire shrugged. 'We're all missing Stoke. But now I got something new on my plate, as if I didn't have enough to worry about.'

'Hey, sound off, soldier. Maybe I can help.'

Rimfire studied her face for a moment, then said, 'Yeah, maybe you can. You know Primer went back today?'

'Uh-huh.'

'Well, she spent a while telling me what she did last night - she says Throttle's back.'

Carbine sat up. '_Throttle_? You must be kidding.'

'Wish I was. He trashed the Ten Claws last night, ended up shooting Redline in the leg and almost getting himself killed by the sound of it. Primer said there was blood all over the place.'

'This is _Throttle_?' said Carbine incredulously.

'She said so. Said she spent an hour on the phone to Modo and it's him. Apparently he's in a bad way - no bike, no knuck nukes, won't stop drinking, won't tell anyone a thing. It's like someone gave a total asshole Throttle's body, let him wreck it and come back here.'

'And he won't tell anyone what's happened to him?'

'Nope. It'd sure help if we knew something, Ma'am.' Rimfire's eyes met Carbine's, and she shook her head.

'No. Absolutely not. Whatever happened between me and Throttle is _private_, understand?'

'Ma'am...'

'Did Primer put you up to this?'

Rimfire pinched the bridge of his nose, resting his elbow wearily on the table. 'No. She just said that it's driving everybody crazy that Throttle won't let them help him and we don't know why. We don't know _anything_. Just that ten years ago-'

'Seven.'

'Right, seven - you two started getting even tenser than before and then one day he left and no-one's seen him till yesterday. Not even Vinnie and Modo. There's been _nothing_. And now I don't know that what we've got isn't worse.' There was silence for a few minutes.

'It was because I told him it was over,' said Carbine finally. 'I mean, you know how it was - there was always so much to do, there still is, we were going to get it together when there was time. But there never was time. And eventually I told him there wouldn't be time in our lives and we'd better just get on with things and forget about it. It really was for the best - for both of us, I swear, we were driving each other crazy. But he went ballistic. I'd never seen him like that before, not even in battle, and I _said_ that to him, and you know what he said?'

'What?' said Rimfire, lightly awed. Carbine's eyes were shiny and her voice trembled.

'He said, "war's fair". And then he left, never told anyone where he was going or when he'd be back. I heard a while later that his ship had been seen on Mecharus. It was for his own good, really it was...'

Rimfire was about to say that Throttle didn't seem to be that good, but he bit it back in time. Instead he leaned across the table and laid a hand on Carbine's. 'It's OK,' he said. 'He's home. We can help him. You'd better get home, get something to eat.' Rimfire studied his superior carefully. She was staring into space, chewing the knuckles of her left hand. He hadn't known Carbine had any nervous habits. She was normally so guarded, she had to be pretty rattled to display one now. 'You want me to come and fix you something?' he said gently. Carbine nodded. Rimfire rolled up the map and put it away.

'And she fell asleep on the sofa so I got her the blanket off her bed and came here.' Rimfire sighed. 'Man, I hope she's gonna be OK. If we lose her as well as Stoke then we're toast.'

Rimfire was being given coffee and cookies in Modo's living room, and sounding off to Modo, Vinnie and Charley.

'So that's the story,' said Charley.

'Nah, just a start,' said Vinnie. 'I mean, sure, he'd be upset for a coupla weeks but it wouldn't be enough to bring him this low. No way.'

'So I guess the next lead is this Mecharus place. Where the hell's Mecharus?'

'Word is it's where Karbunkle's from,' said Modo.

'Maybe he was after revenge,' said Vinnie.

'Get real, Vinnie - we executed him eight years ago,' said Rimfire. 'Throttle was there.'

'Well... maybe he was trying to get some new eyes,' said Charley doubtfully. 'I mean, if it was me and I thought I could, then I would.'

'Yeah, but you'd be on a hiding to nothing,' said Throttle from the doorway. He was wearing only a pair of jeans and looked thinner and more beat up than ever. 'The whole of Mecharus is Stinkfish factory. Bunch of people working for the enemy, if they can't be paid then they get messed with till they do it for free. Fun place.'

'This isn't funny, Throttle,' said Charley.

Throttle rounded on her. 'It's not? No, I guess it's not. Cuz you know what? You got a couple more years before the next Karbunkle's off the production line. And hey, you kill him? Whoo, look out, you got another.'

'We were looking all over for you!' said Vinnie in disbelief. 'Even Stoke couldn't find a trace!'

'Yeah? Well, ain't that surprising.'

'Throttle!' gasped Charley.

'Don't you dare judge me, Charley,' said Throttle, warning in his voice.

'Hey, don't threaten her-' began Rimfire, and Throttle turned and backhanded him across the face.

'And don't _you _dare give me orders! I am _not_ under your command!'

Modo was on his feet halfway through this sentence, and shoved Throttle in the chest. He staggered back and hit the wall. Modo advanced on him, his eye gleaming red. 'Ah don't care whose command you're under or if you ain't under no command at all. You lay a hand on a member of mah family again an' Ah'm gonna forget Ah ever called you brother and lay a hole in your head.'

'Do it, then,' snarled Throttle. 'See if I care. I spent four years in a Plutarkian jail, I lost my woman, my home and my bike - go on, kill me, give me something to smile about.'

Modo gave him a contemptious extra shove for emphasis and turned away. Throttle's lip curled. 'Knew you couldn't do it.'

'Shut up, Throttle,' said Vinnie. 'Or if you're gonna sound off answer me one question and tell me how you got out of jail. You find your bike or something?'

'Did I find my _bike_? Does it _look_ like I found my bike? Do you have any idea what they _do_ to bikes on Mecharus? Cuz if you don't, I'm not gonna spoil your sleep with stories.'

'But you got out,' said Rimfire, the tone carrying a slight implication that the alternative might have been preferable.

'Yeah,' said Throttle. 'I had some help.' He stamped off into the kitchen, slamming the door behind him. They watched the closed door in silence for a moment, then Charley turned back to Rimfire.

'You OK, Rimfire?'

Rimfire poked his jaw. 'Uh-huh. Yeah, don't think it'll even bruise. Listen, Modo, don't think I don't appreciate it, but I don't need you stickin' up for me like that.'

'What if Ah need to do it anyway?' said Modo quietly.

'Then I guess I can't stop you. But if he'd really been tryin' to hurt me I could've put him out myself.'

'Guys, we've got to help him,' said Charley. 'We can't let him go on like this.'

'Not sure I'm that inclined to helpin',' said Vinnie. 'That ain't the Throttle I remember.'

'No, it's not, but the Throttle you remember is buried in there somewhere. I don't know what the galaxy's done to him but by the sound of it he's had it pretty hard for seven years. C'mon, we can get him back.'

'Sounds like a do or die mission, Ma'am,' said Rimfire speculatively. 'But you got a point. I'm in.'

'Come on, Vinnie,' Charley beamed at him. 'Please?'

'Oh, what the hell. Anything for my favourite lady.'

Three pairs of eyes turned to Modo. Modo was still sizzling over the memory of the slap, but the pressure of their gazes was too much. He threw up his hands in mock-despair.

'Yeah, fine, count me in. But Ah still stand by what Ah said. Ah ain't takin' no crap.'

'No-one asked you to,' said Charley. 'We just have to persuade him to stick around long enough to get back on his feet, then maybe we can get him a new bike.'

The kitchen door opened noisily and Throttle sauntered back into the room, a bottle in his hand. 'You shouldn't have,' he said. 'Idiots.'

'Just glad you're back, bro,' said Vinnie.

'I ain't your bro anymore,' said Throttle. 'So why the happy-happy?'

'We care about you, Throttle,' said Charley.

The bottle shattered on the wall behind Charley's head. 'What for?' snapped Throttle. 'Why can't you get it through your thick heads that anyone I give a flying fuck for gets killed? This is exactly why I didn't come to the funeral.' He stormed out, and a few minutes later they heard the front door slam. Charley looked behind the sofa at the broken glass on the floor.

'He's tryin' to make us let him be,' said Modo.

'Yup,' said Charley. 'Ain't gonna.'


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: Here's part two - thankyou all for the reviews, keep 'em coming! Anyway... I guess that's really all I've got to say. On with the fic...

THE WALL - PART TWO

An hour later, Throttle still wasn't back and Charley was worrying so much that it had infected Vinnie and Rimfire, and finally Modo.

'He could be anywhere,' said Charley. 'He could have left the planet.'

'We promised he could if he wanted,' sighed Vinnie. 'But I don't reckon he has. It's pretty late and a ship leavin' at this time of night's gonna be noticed pretty quick.'

'Right,' said Rimfire. 'If he'd gone we'd already have Carbine yelling at us for letting him.'

'Ah bet he just found another bar or another fight,' said Modo. He stood up. 'We better find him afore he hurts himself or somebody else.'

'OK,' said Charley, getting to her feet. 'No, Vinnie, I don't care what you say, I'm coming with this time. My fight too now.'

Vinnie shut his mouth. 'Whatever you say, babe. Guess we might be able to use a woman's touch, anyway. Rimfire, you coming or are you gonna stay back and intercept Carbine if she calls?'

'Coming,' said Rimfire. 'Come on, I'm second general round here, I gotta know what's going down.'

Throttle wasn't anywhere in the base, but once they'd established that it didn't take long to find him. They just had to follow the curses and, when they got closer, the lights. Throttle had got drunk again and gone out into the open to find some rats. He was outnumbered, outclassed and clearly already beaten but he wasn't giving up yet.

'Crap,' muttered Vinnie.

'Rats,' growled Modo.

Rimfire cocked his blaster. 'OK, ladies and gents, on the count of three? Three!' Four bikes whirled through the melee, the air filled with blaster fire and the guns blazed. Rimfire glared down the barrel of his gun into the eyes of the biggest rat. 'Five against one?' he said quietly. 'Not wise.'

'Hey, man, we was mindin' our own business, crazy dude attacked us!' said the rat desperately.

'Why should I believe the word of a rat?'

'Look, I swear, we was headin' for Old Cavern Top, it was Shrapnel's birthday, we was gonna have a party and he jumped us! The war's _over_, man!'

'You think? You're not that observant, then.' Rimfire spoke over his shoulder to Vinnie. 'You believe him?'

'This one's sittin' on a pile of gift wrap and the one Modo's got looks a tad too young for military, so I guess I can buy that. Any of 'em hurt?'

'Not enough that we gotta treat 'em,' said Modo. He looked down at his own captive, utter contempt in his eyes, and lowered his arm. 'Sling yer hook, kid.' The young rat, together with his companions, fled, and the mice turned their attention to Throttle. He was regarding them quietly, his expression unreadable.

'Come on, Throttle,' said Charley. 'Let's go home.' Throttle turned and walked back to the base, not even giving any of them a chance to offer him a ride. They'd just got home when Charley asked the question.

'Trying to get yourself killed?'

'What if I was?' said Throttle. 'They were just rats.'

'Rats or not, they were just _kids_,' said Rimfire.

'You don't have to herd me - in fact, I'd rather you left me alone. Man, I'd forgotten what do-gooders you all were.'

'Yeah? Well, kill yourself, then,' snapped Vinnie. 'See if I care.'

'I don't give a damn if you care,' said Throttle quietly, and shut the bedroom door behind him.

'Hell,' said Charley. 'Oh, god, maybe we should get Carbine to talk to him. I don't know if we can do this.'

Modo looked surprised. 'Charley-ma'am, won't that make him worse?'

'Could he get worse?' said Charley.

'Not without actually going into shock,' said Rimfire. 'Hands up for giving it a try.' His own and Charley's hands went straight up, then Vinnie's and finally Modo's. Rimfire nodded. 'OK, I'll sort it out tomorrow. Charley, we need to be able to lock the conference room door from the outside, can you fix that?'

'Sure. Tomorrow, then.'

It had been quite difficult to get Throttle into the conference room, but they did it in the end. They waited till the thumping noises stopped, then Carbine went in. Throttle froze, staring at her for a moment, then he turned to the security camera on the wall and yelled, 'You promised, you _bastards_ - you dirty sons of rats, the instant I get out of here I'm gonna leave and make sure I never have to look at your foul faces again!' His hand went to his hip, but the blaster had been taken away for fear of what he might do. 'Fucking bastards, I knew I was right, I-'

He stopped. Carbine had stepped into his line of sight with a gun aimed right between his eyes. 'Stop that right now and listen to me,' she said, the slight tremor belying the calm of her voice. Throttle let the rage leave his body, seeming to shrink a little as he did so.

'You gonna use that thing?' he said. 'Go ahead. Let me out.'

Carbine raised the gun so it pointed at the ceiling. 'Throttle - what _happened_?'

He shrugged. 'Hit the wall.'

'What?'

'Remember that game Modo always used to win - Brodies and Bottles? Stoke told me once that life was like playing that game against a great big wall. And I crashed.'

'Oh.' Carbine holstered the weapon, looking at the edge of his ear rather than at his face. 'Throttle... I'm sorry. About... what I said. I mean, ending it. I did it for the best, it was holding us back, I-' She stopped, because Throttle had started to laugh. Not a pleasant laugh, just an ironic, my-god-what-morons-we-are guffaw. Hardly a real laugh at all.

'Holding me _back_?' he said. 'God, Carbine, maybe you were never right for me if you could get me that far wrong. Hell, it was what kept me _going_, knowing you'd be there when the war was over. Shows how well we knew each other. Get out - I don't need this shit. You _certainly _don't.'

Carbine's head dropped and she turned to go, but hesitated. 'Hey, Throttle?'

'What?'

'Truce?'

There was a pause, then when he spoke, there was the faintest hint of a smile in his voice. 'Yeah. Sure. Been fighting every damn thing I could find for seven years, can't be expected to fight you too. Now g'wan, get outta here.'

Carbine knocked on the door and it was opened. She caught the questioning look in Rimfire's eyes and nodded.

It had taken quite a bit of argument on Rimfire's part, with Modo, Vinnie and Charley and with Throttle himself, but Throttle was now staying with Rimfire. The others had admitted it was a relief to get away from the mood swings and the depression, and Modo no longer had to sleep on the sofa. Amazing, thought Rimfire. Twenty-eight years old, second general of the Martian Reformed Army and Modo still thinks I can't handle a belligerent drunk. Well, I'm less likely to shoot him through the head for insulting the family, I know that much...

Throttle, lying across both arms of the only armchair in the room, threw aside an empty beer can and picked up another. Rimfire frowned. 'Man, Throttle, I wish you wouldn't drink so much.'

'Wishes don't come true, kid, woulda thought you'd know that by now.'

'Sure, but why do it? You'll get liver failure.'

Throttle studied the design on the can with exaggerated care. 'Drowning the memories,' he said. 'You remember if you're sober.'

'That's pathetic,' snapped Rimfire. 'It's a _temporary_ solution.'

'Huh, well, if you'd seen some of the things I've seen, even temporary's good.'

Rimfire's eyes narrowed. 'Try me. I've seen a hell of a lot and I've been through more than you think - you think you're fighting this war alone? Well, you're wrong.'

'Hey, I am _not_ fighting your war anymore,' said Throttle sharply.

'Oh, so it's _our_ war now? Our little war for sissies while you get on with armageddon by yourself? You make me sick.'

'You're such a big general now, huh? You little shit, I remember when you were still crashing ships.'

'Yeah? I saw your ship - you telling me all that damage was camoflage? So now you're a hypocrite as well as a violent, drunken waster?'

'That's what you think, huh? Why waste any more time on me, huh, Punk?'

'I got no idea. Hey, maybe I should shoot you right now. But that'd make Charley sad, so I'm not gonna. And you're gonna stick around, you fucking lunatic.'

'Who says?'

'I say. I'll lockdown that junkheap of yours if I gotta but you are staying here till everybody agrees we can let you go. Don't make me put you in a cell.'

'Fine, torture me some more.'

'Maybe you deserve it!'

The sudden silence clanged like an alarm. Rimfire was standing over Throttle, finger poised to stab him again in the shoulder and the air between them sizzled with the intensity of their glares. If looks could kill, both would have been in the morgue already.

Throttle broke the stare first, turning away and downing the last of his beer. There was none left by the chair but he didn't go to the kitchen for more and he didn't say anything, either. Rimfire started to say something, but stopped and shook his head.

'I'm going to bed,' he said quietly. 'Don't stay up all night.'

When Rimfire opened his eyes in the morning, the house was silent. He got up and staggered to the bathroom, passing Throttle's door as he did so - the door was wide open and the room beyond was a mess Rimfire wouldn't have thought possible in one night, but there was no sign of its occupant. Crap, he thought. But since he had grown a lot since the days when he would have stolen a ship and unthinkingly gone into a Plutarkian jail after a single prisoner, and also because he was dreading telling Modo he'd lost Throttle, he washed and dressed before picking up the phone.

He thanked whoever looked after precocious young soldiers when it was Charley who picked up the phone. 'Hello?'

'Hey, Charley, it's Rimfire.'

'Oh, hi, Rimfire - you want me to get Modo?'

'No!' Rimfire forced himself to calm down. 'No, that's OK. Just tell me - without letting Modo know, please - tell me if you've seen Throttle.'

'Oh. Hang on.' There was a whispered conversation off phone and then Charley was back.

'That had better not've been you telling Modo I lost Throttle.'

'Come on, Rimfire, what do you take me for? No, I was asking Vinnie. He says he saw him a few hours ago, heading for the gym. Apparently sober, although whether that counts for anything at seven in the morning is debatable.'

'Right. Thanks, Charley-ma'am, you're the best. See you.'

He glanced at the clock. It was nearly half nine - if Throttle had been up for a few hours already then he probably wasn't still at the gym, but it was worth a try.

The mouse on the front desk looked up as he came in and her face seemed to sag with relief. 'General! Thank the two moons for that...'

'Something wrong, Breva?' said Rimfire, trying to sound noncholant.

'It's that madman Throttle - he came in three hours ago as we opened and he's been working since - I told him he'd do himself an injury if he didn't take a break, but he won't listen!'

Rimfire sighed heavily. 'Yeah, that sounds like him. Don't know if he'll listen to me either, but what the hell, I'll see what I can do. Maybe he'll push me far enough to arrest him... Which room?' He followed Breva's pointing hand into the main weights room. Sure enough, there was Throttle, on his back on the bench, his fur dark with sweat. He was muttering between his teeth, and as Rimfire got closer he heard him counting: '_Two hundred and forty-six, two hundred and forty-seven_...'

He walked around so that he could approach Throttle's line of sight from the front. Throttle glanced at him, but went on counting. Rimfire watched for a while, then said mildly, 'Breva says you've been here three hours now and you haven't had a break. Testing yourself?'

'Nope. Two hundred and fifty.' Throttle put the weights on their stand and sat up, breathing heavily. 'What the hell do you want?'

'Want to know what you think you're doing.'

'What does it look like?'

Rimfire shrugged. 'Looks like self-harm to me.'

'Shows what you know, then,' said Throttle contemptiously. 'Now get out of my face.'

''Fraid not, Throttle - Breva's relying on me to make you take a break so you're gonna take a break. Don't make me arrest you, man.'

Throttle shot him a venomous look, but he stood up and slung a towel around his neck. Rimfire smiled, paying no attention to the look whatsoever. 'Attaboy. Come on, I'll buy you a root beer.'

As the days went by, Throttle started drinking less and training more. Breva's calls to Rimfire to make Throttle take a break were becoming routine as adrenaline started to replace alcohol as his main distraction. It didn't take long for Rimfire to get the call everyone was waiting for.

'General?'

'Oh, hi, Breva - want me to come get Throttle again? I've just got to-'

'No, General, he's taking a break now. He's ruptured his triceps tendon and had to go to medibay. I thought you'd better know.'

'Oh... uh... Yeah. About time. Thanks, Breva. See you around, OK?'

Rimfire got to the medibay to discover that Carbine had beaten him there, but she was standing in the corridor impatiently listening to the head medic's explantation of why she couldn't visit Throttle just yet.

'-finished binding his arm and besides, he's asleep - exhaustion, we think. How hard has he been working lately?'

'Working?' said Carbine. 'He hasn't, that I know of. Why can't I just go in and see him? I won't wake him, Blackbird.'

'I'm afraid we won't risk it this time, ma'am.'

'Ugh!' Carbine caught Rimfire's eye over the medic's shoulder. 'Rimfire! You came to see Throttle? You're out of luck.'

'So I hear,' said Rimfire. 'He's finally getting some rest? Good - didn't you know I've had to personally drag him out of the gym every day for a week?'

'Really? That explains the tendonitis, then,' said Blackbird. 'Of course, if you'd come to me I'd have given you a note banning him from the gym on medical grounds.' She glanced at her notes. 'Except I understand the alternative was alcohol poisoning. Well, you're welcome to stay out here and wait for him to wake up - whereupon _one_ of you may go in, if you think you can do it without making him angry. I'll check back in one hour.'

'Alright, Birdi,' said Rimfire. 'See you later.' Blackbird vanished in a swish of disinfected cotton, leaving Rimfire and Carbine to each take one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs and wait for Throttle to wake.

It took another half an hour before there was movement on the other side of the door. Both generals stood up, then looked awkwardly at each other.

'Go on,' said Rimfire. 'You were here first.'

'You've been looking after him all week,' said Carbine.

'That's probably why he won't want to see me. Go ahead, I can talk to him some other time.'

Carbine bit her lip and opened the door. Throttle was flat on his back, scowling at his left arm, which was practically bricked into place with the icepacks around it.

'Hey, Throttle,' she said.

Throttle looked round. 'Oh, great, I'm in five minutes and already they make me a captive audience. What do you want?'

'Just came to see how you were, that's all,' said Carbine, trying not to let the rudeness get to her.

'Well, you saw. Go away.'

She pulled up a chair by the bed and leaned on her elbow on the edge of the bed. 'What if I don't?' she said. 'What if I take this opportunity to talk to you for a bit?'

Throttle sighed heavily and glared at his arm again. 'Guess I can't stop you. So go on. Talk.'

'So... you did weights till you ripped a tendon? Nice move, wise guy.'

'Did you come here just to take the piss?'

'Nope. Actually I came here to ask you a favour. Normally I wouldn't bother but it's been keeping me up at night.'

Throttle turned his head to look at her properly, at the serious eyes, the fur the colour of storm clouds and coarse, coal-black hair. Carbine wasn't particularly pretty, he'd never thought that, but she had an intelligent, interesting face that he'd always felt he could look at forever. 'Go on,' he said softly. 'Tell me what in the galaxy I could possibly do for you.'

'Don't kill yourself. Please?'

Throttle smiled slightly. 'Tried that, babe. Twice. It doesn't work anyway.'

'Twice?'

'See this?' He extended his free arm and Carbine saw, amongst the scars, a line running the length of the inner wrist. 'That was attempt one, while I was in the clink. But they found me and stitched me up. They don't like you to die too fast when they can make you suffer. And the second time was a few years later, off a bridge on Ganymede. I broke both legs, my jaw, my shoulder, two ribs and three fingers but I still didn't die. So I gave up. There's no point in being a damn fool about it.'

Carbine realised she was gnawing on her knuckles about the same time Throttle did. She brushed her hand off on the front of her shirt and took his hand, running her thumb over the long, well-healed scar. 'Oh, Throttle...' she whispered. 'I'm so sorry...'

'Hey. Stop that thought right there. You are not responsible for me, OK? Now, can we change the subject?'

'Sure. What do you want to talk about?'

'Something not me. I'm all out of distractions in here.'

'OK... Ah...'

'How's the new sidekick?'

'Rimfire?' Carbine's eyebrows shot up at the idea of Rimfire as her sidekick. 'He's... He's not bad. Took one look at the main database and spent three days recoding it so now only him and five or six others can read all the files. He says it's safer that way.'

'Yeah? What if he kicks the bucket? Who'll read your files then?'

'He left me a backup file, only that needs a key which he says is engraved in his right tibia. So if he dies, we really need to recover the body. Yeah, he's been useful. If only he wasn't so damn _polite_.'

'Oh, come on. After all those years of dealing with Stoke, you're telling me now you're not glad to get a break?'

Carbine shrugged hopelessly. 'Amazing what you miss, right? I could handle it if there was just a way to stop him calling me ma'am all the time!'

'Just tell him what you used to tell Stoke.'

'I used to tell Stoke a lot of things. It never did any good, either, no matter how reasonable I was.'

'Reasonable? Who said anything about reasonable? I'm talkin' about the time you said you'd rip his tongue out and strangle him with it if he didn't shut his yap. It worked, right?'

'Mostly cuz I had a screwdriver in each hand at the time,' said Carbine. 'But what the hell, I guess it's worth a try. Only trouble is, if I tell Rimfire to shut his yap, I bet you anything he will, and then I'll have no backup at all.' She sighed heavily. 'I can't win...'

'Welcome to the real world, kiddo.'


	3. Chapter 3

When Throttle got out of hospital he almost immediately went back to the gym. Breva almost called Rimfire again but after fifteen minutes he winced, prodded his arm a little and left without looking at her. Breva almost sighed with relief, but couldn't help wondering if she should be worrying about the next person he was to inflict his new personality on.

The next person was getting used to it. Charley was in the bike shed putting a new can on a Sylver Star 530K when she heard a familiar voice say her name and looked up.

'Need a hand?' said Throttle.

Charley smiled and made space for him beside the bike. 'Sure. Just changing the can on this one - warming up for the real challenge.' She jerked her thumb over her shoulder to an Extrastellar High Rider. 'Got to bring that up to standard, could certainly use some help.'

Throttle glanced at the bike 'I'll say. That thing looks pitiful.'

'Yeah. Not completely hopeless, though. I reckon I've saved worse.' She grinned at him and got a faint twitch of the lip in return. Christ, she thought, it's like getting milk out of a rock...

'So,' said Throttle, picking up a spare wrench. 'What happened to the Last Chance?'

'Oh, it's still going. Thriving, in fact. People bring me their bikes from all over the state. We're doing well enough that me and Vinnie can stay on Mars till we're sure you're OK.'

Throttle rolled his eyes. 'I'm _fine_, for the love of cheese. Why the hell does everyone have to _worry_ this much?'

'Because everyone else remembers the old Throttle,' snapped Charley. 'You were like the big brother I never had - you ever consider that watching you fall apart might actually be painful for me, too?' Throttle looked at her for a moment, surprised, and said nothing. Charley was twisting a nut angrily, and didn't catch the look, and then she stood up, wiping her hands on a rag. 'Here,' she said, shoving the old can into his hands. 'Throw that away.'

Stoker's grave had a proper stone now, with an inscription: '_Hero, father, leader, friend. Stoker of Mars. Ride free_.'And two dates - one that was blazoned in sorrow on everyone's memory, and another that would come as a surprise to many who thought he was younger than that. The grey slab already had a decoration - someone had come and hung a couple of coins on a string off one corner of the stone. Throttle had no idea who that might have been, likewise the donor of the full bottle of root beer lying on the grave.

'It's kinda hard to see the point,' he said, to himself, or to Stoker's memory, or to the air. 'I mean, do they think you're gonna drink it? Still, it's a nice thought, I guess.' He sighed. 'I'm almost glad you're out of it, it's getting sickening up here. The only funny thing so far is getting Modo to say he'd shoot me. Huh. That'd be the day. A nice cool grave and no more worries - Stoke, man, you don't know you're... yeah. I'm surprised they haven't put me in a cell for my own good yet. Rimfire's the worst of 'em - oh, man, that kid's got talent alright. Nag, nag, nag. Send him to the fish, he can talk 'em to death. As for Vinnie and Charley - well, they're OK as long as I don't have to watch 'em. They finally got their act together, I guess that's something. None of 'em will let me drink anything stronger than root beer. Mars, I'd kill for some Ganymedian Knockout right now. I gotta get outa here. But I came to visit you, Stoke, like I said I would. I've done that. I didn't make it to the funeral and I'm sorry - but it was your show and you wouldn't want long-lost deadbeat stealing it. I just wish I hadn't made that damn stupid promise-'

'Throttle?'

Throttle wheeled round, anger flaring, but Carbine was obviously as surprised to see him as he was to see her.

'What are you doing here?' he demanded.

Carbine held up the plant pot in her hands. 'Came to plant this on the grave.' She smiled haltingly. 'Want to help?'

Throttle hesitated. 'I... sure. Why not? You lost the First Tribute race, though.' He indicated the coin necklace and the root beer.

Carbine examined the coins. 'Well, if I didn't know better I'd say Excelsior's been. Who'd have thought it.' She started digging a hole in the fresh earth.

'Excelsior? Mars, that was twenty-five years ago...'

'Right. Just goes to show, doesn't it? As for the root beer - that could have been anyone.'

Throttle took the plant, a graceful thing with pale, heart-shaped leaves and tightly clustered buds, and drew it carefully out of the pot. 'What is this thing, anyway?'

'It's called a Daughter's Tears plant. When it blooms there'll be lots of little blue flowers with purple dots and white stamens.'

'Yeah?' He loosened the root cluster and put the plant in the hole, and Carbine covered it up. 'Sounds pretty.'

'It's lovely. And very rare, of course.'

'What isn't, round here?'

Carbine watered the plant and stood up, wiping the dirt off her hands. 'Well... how are you doing these days, Throttle?'

There was a pause. Throttle filled it with getting to his feet and pretending to be very interested in getting his hads clean. 'I'm... better,' he said at last. 'Too many memories still, and _way_ too many regrets - but better. Yeah. Could be worse.'

Carbine smiled. 'We've all got regrets, soldier. Take me, for instance. Biggest mistake I ever made was letting you leave in the first place.'

Throttle sighed, eyes fixed on the flowerpot in his hands. 'Oh, man... wouldn't it be good if you could take your life and live it again, without the mistakes?'

'I don't know one mouse who hasn't thought that at some time.' She stepped forward and placed her hands over his. 'You know - we could still give our bit a shot. If you want.'

Throttle looked up, into the shy smile, the hopeful brown eyes - Carbine looked like a teenager again. Just a little closer... like _that_, and they were kissing, and it felt as good as it had years ago, when everything had been almost alright and she had been his future, before-

He broke away suddenly. 'No. I'm gonna get you killed.'

'What?' Hurt confusion flashed across Carbine's face, replaced quickly by anger. 'Throttle, I can look after myself-'

'No.' He shoved the flowerpot into her hands and left.

Carbine stood for a moment in disbelief, then threw the pot to the ground and went after him. She caught up with him soon enough - a running mouse will catch up with a striding one fairly quickly - grabbed him by the shoulder and forcibly turned him to face her.

'Throttle, stop right there and tell me what the hell you think you're doing?'

Throttle didn't resist - he stopped, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. 'I don't want you hurt.'

'You're hurting more than just me, you... you fucking _fool_ - are you afraid to let me try and help you, or are you just trying to get yourself as many enemies as you can?'

'I'm _trying_ to forget-'

'Bullshit! What you're doing is _brooding_. You're too damn scared to leave the past behind, that's your problem!'

Throttle turned away. There was nothing to say in the face of Carbine's fury. The silence lasted only a few seconds, and when Carbine broke it, her voice was low and tense. 'Well, you know what I think. The next bit is up to you.' Then she turned and stamped off.

Nobody stopped Throttle as he entered the dock and boarded his ship - when he tried to take off, he found out why.

'_This ship has been placed under lockdown for the foreseeable future. Appeals against this order should be taken to General Carbine. Thankyou._'

Throttle snarled and punched the dashboard. How _dare_ she? How dare she think she could tell him whether to come or go? He got up, stormed out and seized the nearest dock official.

'I need a ship,' he snapped.

'Oh... Throttle...' said the mouse, displaying considerable calm in the face of danger. 'I'm sorry, Sir, we're all under strict orders from General Carbine not to let you leave the planet...' The mouse flinched, but Throttle only threw him away and stamped off, looking for Carbine. It didn't take long. She was in her office, watching the monitor - watching him - and she looked up as he slammed the door open.

'Hey,' she said.

'Don't you "hey" me,' snarled Throttle. 'You give me back my ship. I've had enough of this place.'

'No can do, soldier. I haven't made sure you're OK yet.'

'_Fuck_ you! Who gives a damn whether I'm OK?'

'I do, obviously. And a hell of a lot of other people.' Carbine stood up and walked around the desk to stand opposite him. She couldn't see his eyes - through all he'd been through in seven years, he still had his glasses - but his face was twisted with grief and anger.

'What's it gonna take?' he said. 'What do I have to do before you let me go? Do I have to make you _make_ me leave?'

'Just try it,' said Carbine between her teeth. Throttle punched her, her head snapped to one side and the moment crystallised - so it had finally come to this. Not that the blow had been hard - more dramatic, than anything.

Carbine raised a hand to her jaw. 'You can hurt me if you want, Throttle,' she said quietly. 'I can take it.' She saw the punch coming this time, caught his wrist and brought her knee up - he doubled over and she cut his feet out from under him, laying him on his back. Sitting straddling his waist, pinning his arms above his head, she leaned down and said coldly, 'Only right now, you're not up to much. And if you don't calm down in the next five seconds I'll break every bone in your body.'

Throttle stared angrily up at her, then sighed. 'OK.'

Carbine smiled briefly and kissed him on the end of the nose. 'That's better. I never did like having to threaten you.'

'Yeah? When did _that_ ever stop you?' said Throttle. Carbine shrugged, but didn't reply. Throttle let the silence hang for a moment, then said wearily, 'I don't know what you ever saw in me.'

Carbine thought about it. 'Um. Well, that's quite a puzzler, actually, now I come to think about it... if I hadn't known you as long it'd be the looks but back then you were all long and stringy and you didn't wash your hair enough.'

Throttle snorted. 'Oh, thanks.'

'Just telling it like it is. I guess it was the fact that you were more intelligent than most of the other boys - I mean, Modo and Vinnie've always let you do their thinking for them, up till you left. And then there was the fact that you _would_ do that for them, or anything for anyone - you were always so good to everyone you met, and you hardly ever lost your temper even with rats.' She sighed. 'I wonder what happened to the Throttle I knew?'

'I think he died after they made me dismantle my bike,' said Throttle.

The silence clanged like a bell. 'What?'

'You know the mind-control thing? They did something so I knew what I was doing and I could hear it scream but I couldn't do anything to stop myself. And then they gave me my mind back.'

'Is that why...' Carbine glanced at the scars on his wrists. Throttle nodded. She rolled off him and lay beside him, her head against his shoulder and her arm around his waist. 'Oh, _Throttle_...' After a while he rested a hand on her hair and they lay like that in silence till the sun came up.

The buzzer on Carbine's desk went off, startling both her and Throttle awake. At first she didn't know why she was lying on the floor of her office with his arms around her and his nose in her hair, and she would have liked to stay there longer, but Throttle sat up, clutched at his head and snapped, 'You gonna answer that already?'

Carbine got to her feet, ignoring the protests from her joints after a night spent lying on concrete, and pressed the com button.

'General Carbine,' she said. 'What's going on?'

'General, I got some bad news for ya...' It was Vinnie, sounding like a puppy who was anticipating a kick. 'We've lost Throttle. Been looking all night, can't find him anywhere. Charley says the last she saw he was leavin' the garage heading towards the Garden - but nobody's heard a peep since.'

'That's because he's with me,' said Carbine flatly. 'He has been since just after sunset last night. Don't any of you ever use your heads?'

'Oh...' Vinnie sounded genuinely surprised. 'Well... Rimfire suggested we ask you but Modo was scared of what you'd say when you found out we lost Throttle- _ow_!' The sudden cutoff sounded as though Modo had taken exception to the accusation of fear of Carbine, and the line was picked up by Charley.

'Hello, General? Sorry about that, thirty-seven years old and he still hasn't grown up... So... you've got Throttle?'

'Yes, Charley. He's here and he's...' She glanced over at Throttle. He was leaning on the wall with his arms crossed, watching her. '...I think he's fine.'

'Oh.' There was a pause. 'General, I hope you don't mind me asking this, but... _how_ fine? Fine as in "not drunk or fighting anything" or fine as in "well on the way to full recovery"?'

'Somewhere between the two,' replied Carbine. 'You're missing Earth, aren't you, Charley?'

'I... Yeah. I guess so. And I've got a business to run and everything.'

'You should go home, then. Everything will be OK now, I think.'

'You're sure?' Charley sounded distraught - Throttle's wellbeing versus that of her garage was obviously tearing her up.

'No, but if I waited till I was sure about everything we'd have lost the war years ago. Just don't go before we get to say goodbye.'

Modo was helping Vinnie and Charley load their luggage into the cargo bay of Rimfire's ship when Carbine and Throttle joined them.

'Hey, Carbine; what'd you do if I stowed away on this ship?' said Throttle.

'Well, first we'd have to bring you back, then I'd have to have you electronically tagged,' replied Carbine. 'How does that sound?'

'Smartass.' He raised an eyebrow at Vinnie. 'What the hell are you staring at?'

Vinnie blinked, shoved the crate he was holding to the back of the cargo bay and grinned. 'That's the Throttle I remember.'

Throttle snorted. 'Yeah, in your dreams.'

Carbine sighed. 'We're getting there.' As if to prove it, she slipped an arm around Throttle's waist; he only glanced at her, but he didn't shake her off.

'So, you're under General Carbine's personal supervision, huh?' said Charley. 'Lucky you.'

'And Rimfire,' said Carbine. 'And Modo, of course. So you remember that, soldier - any mutiny and you got three of us gonna whup your ass.'

'Oh, Mars...' Throttle looked sick. 'Look, Charley, how much do I have to pay you to put me in one of those crates and take me away?'

'No can do, my man,' said Charley cheerfully. 'You're on your own.

Modo had finished securing the bikes and stepped out of the ship. 'Hey, bro - don't be sad. We gonna get you a new bike when you're all better again. That sound good?'

'Yeah,' conceded Throttle. 'I guess it does.'

Rimfire strolled out from the bridge of the ship, wiping his hands on a rag. 'All set and ready to go,' he said. Vinnie and Charley started saying their goodbyes; Charley giving hugs all round, Vinnie and Modo exchanging blows that would have floored a human - and then they both reached Throttle. Charley hugged him without giving him a choice in the matter.

'You come and see us when you're OK again, yes?'

'I'm not _ill_, Charley.'

'Alright - when Carbine gives you clearance, come and see us. Better?'

'Sure.'

Vinnie held out a hesitant hand. 'Still bros?'

There was a pause. Then Throttle grasped the hand firmly and said, 'Yeah. Ride free, bro.'

As the ship took off towards Earth, Throttle watched it go. There was still a long way to go - it would be a fight on the part of everybody concerned to bring back someone who even resembled the old Throttle. He draped an arm around Carbine's shoulders and reflected that now, at least, he had something to fight for. A future, he thought. Yeah. Maybe one day we can all go out to Mecharus with the whole Martian Reformed Army and blow the whole shit heap sky-high... Now _that's_ a happy little thought...

POSSIBLY NOT THE END

Postscript: There have been questions as to what exactly happened to Throttle in the preceding seven years - here I have mentioned the end of the relationship with Carbine, four years in a Plutarkian jail on Mecharus, being made to torture his bike, and two failed suicide attempts. What I haven't done is go into any detail. There is actually a story planned - why go into detail here when I can write another story and we can watch it happening, up close and personal?


End file.
